


Learned Experiences

by TheColorBlue



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Bigotry & Prejudice, Cynicism, Gen, Panic Attacks, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 04:37:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6501106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheColorBlue/pseuds/TheColorBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some childhood experiences never really go away.<br/>Or: I can't believe that film went there and I'm going to talk about it some more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learned Experiences

The problem with most prey bigots, Nick’s figured out, was that they confused the idea of “hunting down live food” with being an asshole. Eating grass didn’t preclude being an asshole. 

But, anyway, by that time he’d already decided that he was ruined. His innocence had been destroyed forever. He was going to be a predator and an asshole, because he’d given up. His mother had spent all that money on a brand new ranger scouts uniform which he was never going to wear again, and then for a whole he pretended to keep going to ranger scouts, so his mom wouldn't dig for the shameful details. His mother worked two jobs. She couldn’t keep an eye on him always. He pretended to go to ranger scouts, and instead wandered around the neighborhood like a hooligan, while passing cops who eyed him like he was going to start vandalizing buildings or breaking into homes and stealing valuables. When they were prey cops, it was worse. Nick would see them out of the corner of his eyes and his heart would start beating too fast and he’d start breathing too fast, and then he’d have to stop because it was like he was being smothered, losing air. 

He didn’t feel safe until long after they were gone. 

It was a problem.

There was something wrong with him, _in his head_. 

He thought about it, and then started crying. 

If anything got too close to his face, the same panicked feelings happened too, except a thousand times worse.

It was probably for the better his mom couldn’t afford to take him to a dentist on the regular. 

He started brushing and flossing his teeth like someone with obsessive compulsions. No one was going to make him lie down while they put things at his face. He’d sooner pull out his own cavity-infected teeth with pliers before that happened. 

-

Once, Nick tried to imagine what it’d really be like to be a predator, to do the things his ancestors thousands of years ago had supposedly done. 

He thought about it, and then wished he hadn’t thought about it.

He had nightmares that night. 

Something about trying to hunt and failing and then a muzzle getting shoved on his face anyway. 

He tried not to think about it, after that. 

-

That was when he was nine. 

-

When he was nineteen, he went to see a therapist. 

He hustled money so that he could see a therapist. 

Something about the idea of having to pay money to fix what other people had done to him vaguely enraged him, when he stopped to think about, so he didn’t stop to think about it. 

He sat down in that dumb-looking office with the dumb-looking paintings of flowers on the walls, and then he looked at the therapist—a panther, smartly dressed and wearing glasses, maybe to look smarter than in reality, Nick thought with a sneer—and then Nick said, “I’m afraid of muzzles and I’m afraid of cops. Prey cops are especially assholes. Fix me.” 

“Nick—“ the therapist began.

“And don’t try to sweet talk with me either, cut the shit,” he said, and looked at the wall, at the flowers. 

They were painted in cheerful, primary colors. 

Nick thought, they looked fake. 

-

At thirty-two, Nick looked down at a young bunny cop—she was new, had to be fresh out of school—and there was only a vague, background shiver of fear. She was a bunny. She was small and _cute_ , adorable really, if you found wide-eyed young folks who had clearly been sipping the figurative kool-aid to be adorable. 

She was an asshole. 

She’d clipped fox repellant spray to her hip, and she was patronizing to him in a way that made Nick want to reach down and snap her pen in half. 

Nick knew he was an asshole too, but for this meter maid, he turned up the dial. He milked the situation for all that it was worth. People who cooed at him like he was an infant while being ready to spray him in the eyes with pepper the next second deserved it. 

The world was terrible.

Nick was as terrible as all the rest of them.

-

He tried not to think about it.


End file.
